


Among the Nettle

by crosscamellia



Category: Persona 2
Genre: Bloodplay, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort without the Comfort, Knifeplay, Masked Assailants, Multiple Assailants, Non-Penetrative Sex, Nonconsensual Touching, Other, Paralysis, Stabbing, Status Effects, over the clothes touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 16:06:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14216796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crosscamellia/pseuds/crosscamellia
Summary: The group splits up in Taurus Temple so they can find the next door up; Jun encounters some spare members of the Masked Circle.(Mind the tags.)





	Among the Nettle

“Huh… It doesn’t seem like we’re getting anywhere at all…” Maya sighed, bracing herself against one of the rough, sanded walls of Taurus Temple. She slid down the wall, then turned to Tatsuya. “Pass me a chewing soul.” 

Tatsuya neatly tossed one of the tiny circular tins into her open palm, and handed one each to the rest of the group. Maya took some from the tin and started chewing.

Jun knew that -including the ones in their hands- there were at least 99 of those little tins in the group’s possession. Dungeon prep could be like that. 

He eased the lid off with a twist, and the overpowering scent of incense and essential oils struck him in the face, making his eyes water. As strong as it was, it was a welcome contrast to the foreboding earthiness of the temple, a mix of ancient dust and mold smells. A generous pinch from the tin went into his mouth.

As he chewed, whatever was in the tin (some combination of homeopathic herbs and stimulants for sure- it didn’t matter, in Sumaru the placebo effect was essentially a synonym for reality.) coated the inside of his mouth and made his tongue tingle. The intensity of it flooded his sinuses and seemed to permeate his head. He shut his eyes and let the sensation flood back into his body, back into his fingertips and toes. Jun reveled in the refreshing energy enveloping him. Chronos swelled back to full power inside the back of his head.

“...We should split up.” Maya’s voice came again as he opened his eyes.

The others, especially Lisa and Eikichi, sent her a confused look.

“What?” Lisa asked, incredulous.

“We’ll all be able to cover more ground if we split up; we’re all singularly stronger than the demons on this floor, so we’ll find the stairs five times as fast!” She glanced around the open room they’d found themselves in. Maya turned to them all and gave an even smile. “Anyways, there are five pathways here, so it’s perfect.”

Tatsuya followed her gaze with his own and narrowed his eyes. He gave a nod and rummaged around in the group bag, pulling out some more chewing soul tins and five threaded bead packs.

Jun’s eyes were glued onto his motion, in equal measures following the movement of Tatsuya’s hands and the gentle flicker of his eyes as he counted up the items.

Each of the group received a modest serving from him as he steadily spoke tactics, directing their gazes to the five pathways in the room and assigning each of them to a direction. As Tatsuya handed a bracelet of beads and seven small tins into Jun’s hands, their eyes met. Jun quickly looked away in a motion he hoped looked natural. His hand clenched around the supplies he’d been given.

“Hold up, hold up-” Eikichi interjected with a whap of his hand. “Shouldn’t we be splitting up into groups?”

He received an irritated glance from Tatsuya, but it was Maya who spoke up. “As I said, we should all be strong enough to go on our own, especially now that everyone but Lisa has their ultimate personas. She’s strong to the attacks of the guys here, so that’s no problem. As for splitting up into groups, well.. First things first, five doesn’t split up evenly.”

“...I guess so.” Eikichi grumbled.

Lisa came up from behind Tatsuya and latched onto one of his arms, giving the rest of them a cheeky smile. “It’s okay if me and Chinyan go together though! Right, Chinyan?” 

Her action sent a strange twist to the pit of Jun’s stomach, but he chose to ignore it.

In the meantime, a look of silent mortification came over Tatsuya’s face, and he jerked out of Lisa’s grasp. He took a good few steps away from the others, towards the east exit. 

Tatsuya’s face was firmly turned away from the group as he went down the corridor, but he gave a sharp incline of his head to acknowledge them. He told them that he’d be going alone.

Eikichi’s gaze flitted from Tatsuya’s receding figure back to the rest a few times. He straightened his posture and marched over to the right northern path. “I’ll be going alone too, then!”

“What a shame… Do you think he would’ve said yes if I tried, Lisa?” Maya slyly elbowed her in the shoulder as they watched Tatsuya and Eikichi go off. It was just them and Jun in the center room now.

“Aiyah, that’d be no fair, Big Sis!” Lisa wailed, waving her fists at Maya. “Even I wouldn’t be able to say no to you, and we’re both..! No, you can’t! You can’t ask him!” 

“You were the one that asked him first.. Well, I’m just teasing.” She gave a friendly push to Lisa’s shoulder. “What about you, Jun?”

He saw a strange look flash over Lisa’s face as Maya turned to look away from her, but.. That kind of thing wasn’t any of his business. Neither was their conversation. Jun knew they expected him to come back with some kind of declaration of intent or embarrassed declination, no matter how foolish and absurd either would make him look. He was too aware of the somber set of his own jaw to joke back. A gloomy guy like him is no fun, he could imagine them saying.

“...Ah? I’ll be going alone too.” He tried to give them a small smile. “I’ll do my best to keep up with you all.”

He could hear Maya stage whisper to Lisa as he strode down the west path. “He dodged it…”

Jun’s palms felt damp even as the stiff, dry air of the temple rasped at his face. There seemed to be grit in his shoes and in his fine socks, rubbing against the raw, pink skin of his feet. Diarama spells and chewing souls could only do so much to alleviate the signs of fatigue, and of course they couldn’t do anything for stresses and ailments of the mind.

The hallway wound around further than he’d expected, sometimes opening up into smaller chambers, but generally remaining thin and claustrophobic. Periodically, he could hear different footsteps echo through the hallways. Frantic steps, methodical pacing, the eerily, familiarly signature click-clack of heeled shoes, the sound of entire groups shuffling around, the uneven and sometimes wet paces of demons.. 

He dispatched several small groups of said demons, ending each battle with a quick flourishing gust of wind. The brisk breeze seemed to clear up the stagnant air quite nicely.

No sweat. Maya was right, they were all more than strong enough- the only clincher was how much SP Chronos needed to summon up spells. Each time he got to the edge, Jun tried to go just a bit harder, summon Chronos for just a little longer- anything to actually prove himself. This time he’d actually have some chewing souls left to put back in the bag.

Speaking of which, his fingers were starting to shake again- Jun reached into his pocket for a tin.

Only, something stopped his hand before he could pull the tin out.

A large, black-gloved hand clamped tight over his wrist and wrenched it behind his back before he could react.

“Don’t move. Don’t make a sound.” A muffled voice came from behind him. What was this? Why hadn’t he heard the footsteps? 

There was a steely sound as a long and cruel looking ceremonial dagger came up against his cheek. “Or I’ll mark up this pretty face of yours.”

Jun’s breath caught violently in his chest, his heart suddenly pounding a vicious beat. He strained to look behind him. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted lose, cheap yellow cloth over black underclothes, a small black and blue crest over the chest. One of the masquerade, one of the ‘Taurus Masks’. 

His body went stiff as the Taurus Mask pulled him against their chest and brought the knife down to cut his pants pockets open. There was a clatter on the ground as the beads and tins of chewing souls fell out. A frustrated growl gritted its way out of his throat. How could he let them sneak up on him? How could he let this happen? How much longer was he going to let everyone down?

The knife was still at his pocket as his thoughts raced. If he moved now, he could escape without too much injury..

Jun summoned up the last bit of his mental fortitude; before the Mask could react, he kicked his heel back into their knee with all the force of Chronos’ supernatural strength, his leg and the immaterial leg of his persona momentarily overlapping. He kicked, and kicked, and kicked, and kicked, over and over again, like the foot of a rabbit stuck in a bear trap and when the Mask’s grip on him finally loosened, he lunged forward. The knife caught on his pants and dragged a thick slash over his thigh in the heat of the moment, and it burned but he didn’t care, couldn’t care.

His momentum carried him forwards as he tripped over onto the ground. There was grit on his face and palms from where he fell. Jun’s hands flew to his leg, over the cut- it thrummed with heat and stinging pain as a steady, sticky ooze of blood came from it. It was okay. He’d be fine. He’d be okay as long as he healed himself later.

The Taurus Mask was starting to get back on their feet though, so he’d have to act fast if he wanted to get out of this alright.

“Chr- Chronos!” He hollered his voice hoarse and plucked the flower from his chest pocket to point at the masked cultist. “Cross Fortune!” 

“You little brat! You’ll regret that..!” They spat at him, unaware of what was about to hit them. “Oh, shit-!”

There was a sudden flash of light and sound- howling winds, and burning light. A strangled wail, a wet sound as his assailant fell to the ground. The vicious gusts lashed around his body harmlessly, though he could feel them blow his hair and scatter the blood from his leg.

Jun got up from his knees and braced himself against the wall as the winds began to die down, dust circling around him in a lazy little zephyr. Sound pounded and pulsed in his ears, overwhelming him. His numb fingers twitched, his eyes lidded with exhaustion. 

He couldn’t feel the presence of Chronos at his side or in the back of his mind anymore. The cut on his thigh throbbed angrily as scarlet blood stained his cut spring blue school uniform pants. He looked down upon the tattered and red-stained cultist with grim satisfaction. 

“I’ll regret what?” Jun asked quietly, so as not to disturb the silent hallway.

Then, suddenly, the silence broke as a different but similarly muffled voice echoed throughout the hallway. “This!”

Jun whipped his head around, eyes widening as he spotted three more Taurus Masks running down the hallway, one brandishing a spell card.

Before he could dodge or even turn around to retaliate, the spell hit him directly in the chest. The shock of it blossomed through his body, taking his motor control away and leaving only numbness. He could just barely twitch his fingers, blink his eyes- he’d been hit with paralysis.

“Augh, he got one of ours..! Get up, get up!” One of the cultists raised another spell card and healed the one Jun had beaten. “Come on, get up.”

The injured Taurus Mask rubbed their head as they came back to. “Fuck…” The one that cast the spell lent their hand so the injured one could stumble upwards.

As they exchanged pleasantries, Jun fought against the numbness in his face to grit his teeth. This was the worst possible situation. It honestly would’ve been better if he’d been knocked unconscious in battle- at least then he might’ve been left for dead until one of the others came looking for him.

But now that he was incapacitated and at the full mercy of the enemy.. 

Maybe they’d just let him be.

The four of them turned their gazes onto Jun. All he could do was stare back, motionless. He couldn’t even move his face from the blank expression currently plastered on it.

It felt like he was wearing a mask.

“So, what are we gonna do with him…?”

“Are we supposed to capture or kill him? I can’t remember..”

“Huh, Don’t you remember? Princess Taurus told us that if we catch a guy from that group we gotta bring him back to her.”

Princess Taurus.. They must be referring to Lisa’s shadow. Makes sense that they’d adapt the names of Joker’s collapsed entourage to fit the replacements. It was still disgusting to consider- he was glad this was the final temple, and with it, the tenets and structures of the Masquerade should finally fall.

“Yeah, but is this the one?”

“Hrm.” One of them approached him, grabbed hold of his chin, wrested his face around. “Well, he is pretty.”

Jun could feel his stomach turning. He preoccupied himself with cataloguing the four cultists in front of him. Mask One -the one holding him by the chin- was a little shorter than the others, and seemed to have a rough and tumble approach to their words.

“Pretty, yeah, but is he sexy?” Mask Two -the other talkative one of the three that just arrived- had messier robes than the others and spoke in a deeper timbre.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mask Three -the one he’d just bowled over- still had cuts and red stains all over their robes, and their voice sounded irritable, but that was to be expected. They leaned in and plucked the flower from Jun’s chest, crushed it in their hand, then threw it to the ground. 

Mask Four didn’t seem to speak at all, and was the tallest of the four. They kept pacing to and fro in the corridor, stopping suddenly in front of where Mask One was gripping him.

“She said, and I quote, ‘Make sure you get the sexy one’.”

“Jesus.” Mask One muttered as Mask Three brushed their robes of dust. All the while, Jun’s eyes flickered between the four of them. He still couldn’t move. “He’s looking at us.”

“Would you say he looks sexy?”

Once again, all four of the expressionless white masks zeroed in on his face. The inset gold gems were dull, swallowing the dim ambient light of the hallway in without reflection.

“‘Dunno.” Three said.

The ‘sexy one’ that ‘Princess Taurus’ told them to grab was probably Tatsuya. It would make a grim amount of sense- after all, hadn’t Michel’s shadow gone to grab Hanakouji the moment the shadows had fallen out of his control? The fact that Tatsuya’s shadow didn’t try to nab anyone had to be the exception that proved the rule. The machinations of shadows and doppelgangers...

And wasn’t Jun glad he didn’t end up with a shadow of his own?

“Yeah, I dunno. Maybe you should.. give us a better look.” Jun’s breath caught, his thoughts whipping back to the present as Mask Two gestured at his collar.

“Yeah..” Mask One leaned in closer to Jun- he could hear heavy breathing beneath the mask as they pushed him up against the wall, a gloved hand pulling roughly at the top of his school uniform. It was a crowded feeling; repulsive to have a stranger like this so up close and personal, touching him- touching him.

He wanted to turn his face away.

Another tug, but the buttons stayed firmly fastened. 

Mask One gave a frustrated noise, then methodically unbuttoned each one, all the way down to Jun’s waist. 

Mask Two clucked their tongue. “Isn’t it summer? A gakuran and an undershirt’s gotta be way too hot.”

“Why don’t we help him cool off, then?” Mask Three squared in and firmly grasped the collar of the white button down undershirt with one hand. In the other, they gripped their ceremonial dagger -still stained red at the tip- and dragged its edge down, quickly popping the buttons off one by one. Button by button, Jun’s pale bare chest was revealed.

Even through the paralysis, his shoulders heaved with short, anxious breaths. He fought to open his mouth, but when his lips shakily parted all that sounded was a distressed whine.

Mask Three turned to look at Mask One, whose line of sight was firmly trained on Jun. “See, that’s how you open a shirt.”

“Shut up, dumbass.” Mask One eased the two layers of shirts over Jun’s shoulders. His fingers twitched as the material bunched up over his wrists.

The worst part, as far as he could see now, was how they kept chattering away so nonchalantly as they terrorized him like this. How could there be people who acted like this? Were these the kind of people that he’d recruited while deluded?

“Look at this, you nicked him.” Mask Two chastised, pushing the other two aside to stand center in front of Jun. They pressed a thumb to the center of his chest. Jun’s eyes flew down to see the black, wrinkled fabric of a glove dabbing at a cut, smearing a small bead of red at his collarbone. The finger trailed down to Jun’s stomach, leaving behind a thin line. He grit his teeth and hissed through them.

Why were they doing this? He couldn’t look into their eyes to read their intentions, and they just kept drawing closer, pawing at him with their anonymously gloved hands. Jun’s hands clenched, and he looked up and glanced past them, at Mask Four, who seemed to be staring directly into his eyes. 

Another hand came to his chest, rubbing at the line Two had left. “You say that, but you’re getting him dirty.” Three said.

“Yeah, yeah.. Watch this.” Two’s hand smoothed over the flat of his stomach and dipped under the waistband of Jun’s boxers, giving him a friendly little rub. It sent an unpleasant shot of warmth into the pit of his stomach, and his body couldn’t help but jerk forward.

Two took advantage of that and pulled Jun closer to their chest, away from the wall. With wide, frozen eyes, Jun stared into the yellow expanse of their robes- it was all he could do. One of them was laughing, but he couldn’t tell which.

“Hey, don’t hog him!” One slapped a hand at Two’s shoulder. It went ignored as Two turned to look at Mask Four.

“You, get over here.” Four stirred forward. “Hold his arms.”

He heard approaching footsteps as Mask Four quietly tucked in behind him. Jun’s upper arms were wrested back as Four pulled him flush against their thickly robed body. It was too close, too.. Intimate, mortifyingly intimate, like a lover’s embrace, a warmer, larger body against his. 

It was too hot- Jun’s face felt like it was glowing with an incandescent kind of heat as sweat made his hair damp. His breath was coming out even rougher, and his mind was starting to fall into hysterics. He had to get away, get out of this before they went any further. 

Jun tried to jerk his shoulder forward, but the grip on his arms tightened and wrenched him back again. The inertia made his head hang lower, his eyes fixed at the other cultist’s feet.

“I thought we were supposed to be checking if he’s the right guy..” Three’s head tilted, their mask rotating with the movement. 

“C’mon, read the mood,” Two said, gently running their hand up and down Jun’s torso again, squeezing against the curves in his flesh. “I think he’s getting excited by this. Definitely sexy.”

Maybe he was, Jun thought with detached scrutiny. Maybe this was what it felt like to have one’s desires twisted. To be held, to be touched, even if it was by strangers, even if there wasn’t anything he could do to stop it. His numbed body still responded, like it was exactly what he’d wanted. Each time he was grabbed, that minute sensation of his body moving into each touch taunted him. Paralysis and involuntary reflexes took over his agency, leaving only pathetic, wanton desire. It was filthy.

“Gross… Well, if we’re having fun..” Three said, resting one hand on his shoulder, running other down Jun’s side. Their fingers went down to his thigh, where he’d been cut before, and gave it a quick rub. Jun could feel the sting as their fingers caught over the uneven, split skin and got smeared with tarry red. A whimper was pulled from him as their hand came around the wound, squeezing gently.

And then they clenched their fist over the cut.

Jun’s head shot up at the sudden burst of white-hot pain. He gasped and choked, his lips parting in a haggard, silent scream as the fingers dug into the cut. As the sensation flooded back into his body he rocked hard against the cultist holding him in an attempt to get away from the hand clawing into his wound, but even then it did not stop.

Mask One -or was it Two?- stared, seemingly taken aback as Three squeezed their hand over Jun’s thigh.

“St- St-!” Jun’s voice finally started to come out in hysteric, halted gasps and sobs, his eyes wild with agony. “Stop-! Stop it-!”

A large hand came from behind to clasp over his mouth, preventing any sound from escaping. Mixed signals and blood loss made his mind go hazy, and he could hardly tell who was touching him anymore. He tried, weakly, to bite at the hand, but it was cupped well over his mouth, preventing him from getting a mouthful.

Someone abruptly grabbed his legs on the other side and levered him up off the ground; he heard the sound of metal slicing through fabric, felt a blade graze along the length of his leg. With a tug they tore his pants from him, leaving only black boxer briefs to protect his dignity.

He sobbed in frustration and misery as yet another hand started gently rubbing at his chest, a finger softly tweaking his nipple. The pain and the heat, the agony and the disgust in equal parts both welled up in him as he felt it harden in response. 

Disgusting. Disgusting. Jun didn’t want this. He wanted to make them stop. He wanted to make himself stop. He wanted to cut them limb from limb and call upon his persona to crush them into smithereens. He wanted to do the same thing to himself. 

Jun thrashed around, his suddenly free arm coming up to claw at the hand around his mouth. Anything to dislodge it, anything to break free. Anything to hurt them. His nails dug into the flesh of the person’s arm, a skin--crawling feeling that nonetheless felt satisfying. He viciously snapped his teeth, pushing his face forward again. If he fought back, if he kept trying to get the upper hand, none of this would be in vain. He couldn’t just lay there and take it, he had to fight it-

The hand at his thigh whipped up and slammed his hand against the wall. Was that Mask number Three? Cloth covered fingers roughly twined between Jun’s weakly twitching ones. He could hear one of them talking, but it was like white noise- he couldn’t understand any of it.

He tried to bite at the hand again, but in retaliation they forcefully pushed their fingers into his mouth. And out. And in. They held his jaw open and kept him from biting down as they pistoned their gloved fingers into his mouth, coating them with saliva.

Someone pressed a spell card against his forehead before he could bite down- he could feel his control over his limbs return fully, but in exchange his thoughts began to grow fuzzier yet. Like confusion, bewilderment, but when he tried to flex out of the hold of the cultists, something in his mind told him not to resist. That he was not among enemies. That he should let them touch him, that he wanted it. That he should give in, help them, even. 

There was this hollowly familiar sensation, like crawling tendrils enveloping his heart and mind. Invading every crevice of his awareness- like every vein of blood in his body had turned sentient, squirming and writhing in a nightmare moment of complete sensory lucidity, but just for a second, just until he gave in and let it take over.

Jun didn’t want to give up his control, but what choice did he have?

As multiple hands held him into place and touched him, stroked him, restrained him and tormented him, Jun felt fully weightless. The pain in his thigh seemed to slough away, leaving only an intense, twisted kind of pulsating, nauseating pleasure as it throbbed.

The person behind him started to shift as he was distracted; their knee came up between his leg to slowly and methodically rub up against him, just against the front of his boxers. Jun heard himself involuntarily groan around the fingers. He clenched his eyes shut. 

There was a different pair of hands at his legs- gentler, slower, as they rubbed soft circles into the sensitive flesh of his inner thighs. That was a different kind of agonizing; those fingers kept teasing closer, rubbing deeper, and Jun couldn’t help but admit it felt humiliatingly good. He couldn’t escape this friction, not as it made that thick, yet weightless, unattainable, yet unwanted feeling build up inside him.

Pathetic, repulsive little noises kept spilling out from him as he involuntarily licked at the fingers in his mouth. The rough, choppy movement of those fingers made his head bob back against the chest of whoever was holding him down.

His hips began to twitch and move against the knee of their own accord, seeking more. The hands pulled his legs wider apart. Sick, cloying shame overtook Jun as he gave in, the uncomfortable rigidity of his body melted right out of him though his limbs were still held taut; his arms above his head and, oh- a hand gripped his bare shoulder, another pushed one of his legs up, up over a shoulder as they aligned their body against his, between his thighs.

Their larger body smothered his own as they pushed closer and closer into his space, his leg straining enough to make him whine as it was pushed yet forward. The hands on his body shuffled to accommodate the new position until he was well and fully sandwiched.

Now that they were close enough, he could feel a certain hardness shift against him, against his own. A hardness behind him, and the knee between his legs receded, only for that hardness to press up firmly against him, flush with the cleft of his backside. 

He could hear heavy breathing, panting, behind him, in front of him, from him.

The person in front of him suddenly dragged their hips forward- a slow, languid movement that made Jun’s breath catch, made him gasp. His body leapt up at the friction eagerly, seizing into it outside his control. 

There were voices laughing in his periphery, but the person behind him chose that moment to thrust up against him, joggling his mind. Jun’s legs went weak as the two holding him began an uneven pace of rocking against him, then lulling long enough that he had to desperately grind against them to get any kind of relief. 

They were toying with him. The thought burned inside his head like a brand, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it. There was a hand on his head, gently weaving through his hair. He was being pet, like an owner would pet their dog. A softened voice cooed at him- were they teasing him? Was he being ever so gently patronized, as two people thrust against him? Jun couldn’t tell through the haze, all he could tell was that it felt good. He weakly angled his head into the touch, letting them strip him of any pride or composure he had left. How could it feel so good?

Jun let out a helpless sob as their pace picked up, as he arched into their movements, as every sensation and feeling inside him built to a crescendo and he gave in completely-

There was a sudden shout. A burst of heat. 

Jun’s eyes snapped open as he felt his body drop to the floor. The cultists that had been holding him had crumpled to the floor, wreathed in smoldering flames. Despite that, the flames didn’t seem to touch nor mar his figure whatsoever. 

He rose, quickly, from the heap of cultists, on his knees. Jun’s eyes flashed towards the origin point of the flames. There was a person standing there in the hallway, staring at him with wide eyes. At the sight of this person, the haze in his head compelled him into a rage, his vision blurring as he got up on unsteady feet and ran at them, pulling his fist back for a punch.

The person swiftly caught his wrist, and Jun heard them telling him- no, asking him, to stop, to calm down. He struggled against them, lashing out with his other hand. The force behind his punches was undeniably weak -he was surprised he still had any energy left at all- but as each one of his hits made contact, the person he was hitting looked absolutely devastated. Jun narrowed his eyes and felt his lip curl in a dark kind of satisfaction-

-Only to reel back in shock as a little plastic bottle was pushed up to his mouth. A sour, subtly bitter fluid went down his throat. He struggled and coughed and choked on the liquid- which he identified as an energy drink as it entered his system.

Jun’s eyes widened as the haze over his mind suddenly and abruptly dissipated.

His knees buckled, and he fell, bare knees first, to the gritty floor of the hallway. With lucidity came nauseating awareness. Now that his head was clear, he knew who was standing in front of him.

A cold sweat broke over him as he became aware of a particular kind of damp stickiness coating the only piece of clothing he still had on him.

Overpowering nausea struck Jun. His vision started to blur- different from when it’d blurred with confusion, or with movement. He tightly clasped both his hands over his mouth and bowed over so low his forehead pressed against the floor.

He heard Tatsuya say his name. Quietly, with marked discomfort.

“I’m sorry,” Jun started, his voice dull with a cynical sort of edge to it as he suppressed both the bile and the the tremor running through him. He stared blankly at the floor. “For hitting you.”

An uncertain voice reassured him that it was fine. There was a shifting sound, then a weight over Jun’s shoulders. He lifted his head from the floor to find Tatsuya’s school jacket draped around him. A pinching feeling asserted itself at the back of Jun’s eyes. He bit his lip, and brought his gaze up further.

Tatsuya was very pointedly and very awkwardly looking away from him, but there he was. Jun couldn’t remember a time he’d seen him without his full school uniform on. It was almost refreshing seeing him in just the button-down and tie, despite the circumstances. It was.. comforting.

His eyes flickered back to Jun. Quick as a whip, his lighter was in his hand, and he flicked it open. And shut. Back in his pocket. Jun didn’t want to misinterpret it as anything more than a simple force of habit, but a very small, very tight smile found its way to his face nonetheless.

Tatsuya offered his hand.

Jun took it, and let himself be pulled back up on his feet.


End file.
